


I Have Broken More and More

by We_deserve_rainbows



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Communication, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Repairs, brian is injured :(, emphasis on the hurt, written for my friends birthday!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 03:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_deserve_rainbows/pseuds/We_deserve_rainbows
Summary: He tried, on instinct, to bring his hand up to the screen.It did not work.There was something almost like pain, a sensation that was as close to a sharp hurting that his ‘nerves’ were capable of producing, and a gasp that seemed, just for a moment, to fill the silent room.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	I Have Broken More and More

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday remy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you are super poggers and i hope you have a good day!

Brian smiled, content to hum to himself as he helped Aurora make her way through the stars. He didn’t actually know where Aurora’s attention was at the moment. Usually she would chat with him as he piloted. Now, however, she was not present.  _ Probably off with Nastya somewhere _ ,  _ or the Toy Soldier _ . He nodded slightly to himself, satisfied with the conclusion that he had reached. 

A notification appeared on the navigation control console, an alert that they would have to refuel sometime in the next century. He tried to raise his arm to dismiss the notification when he became aware that something was very,  _ very _ wrong. 

The motion he tried to take wasn’t one that he thought about often, just an instinctual twitch to bring his hand up to the screen. 

It did not work. 

There was something almost like pain, a sensation that was as close to a sharp  _ hurting _ that his ‘nerves’ were capable of producing, and a gasp that seemed, just for a moment, to fill the silent room. 

Cold panic bubbled in his chest and he tried to stand, terrified of what would happen if he didn't do  _ something.  _ He stood and turned to the door, trying desperately to get out, get  _ help _ . 

He had taken just a few steps when the wires in his legs were flooded with white hot burning electricity, making his mechanical muscles contract and his vision spin. He couldn’t do anything but shut his eyes as he fell to the floor. 

He was alone in the navigation room, slumped on the ground next to the wall. The stars stretched out beyond the wide window, tempting him to look, to forget the frustration and pain, to let himself get lost in the cold of those stars. 

But he didn’t. He needs to fix this, and staring out into the void wasn't going to help. He tried to get up again, pressing his palm flat on the floor to try to push himself up.

For a second, one beautiful second, he thought it was going to work. He thought he would be able to get up and it would be okay.

The second passed, however, and his arm gave out again, and he was back where he started. 

Brian wanted to shout. For  _ what _ exactly he didn't know. Out of pain, perhaps. For help? God knows he could use it, but he didn’t know if he  _ should _ . The Mechanisms had been around the universe for countless millennia, seen atrocities and violence beyond the scope of a human mind and laughed, but Brian couldn't miss the momentary cringe of pain and fear on their faces when one of the crew was  _ really _ hurt. 

Could he do that to them, would making any of the crew that afraid be worth mending his pain? 

If he had remained in that room uninterrupted he likely would have remained frozen, either unable to make a decision or coming to the conclusion that it would be  _ wrong  _ to make any of the others hurt like that.

Fortunately, he was interrupted, drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway and finally stopping just outside of the door to the navigation room, Then a knock and, “Brian? Can I come in?”

For a moment Brian said nothing, and then opened his mouth to reply. 

This could be considered a mistake, as Brian did not know  _ what _ he was planning on replying with, whether to invite Tim in, presumably changing Tim’s plans drastically by forcing repairs into his schedule, or to tell him to go away.

As Brian had opened his mouth before he knew what he wanted to say there were no words, just a metallic croak of indecision that definitely caused Tim more concern than staying silent would have. 

“Brian I’m coming in.” 

And sure enough, the door to the navigation room opened and Tim entered, looking slightly concerned when he did not see Brian where he usually sat.

He spun around slowly, eyebrows knit in worry before seeing Brian sat on the floor, looking far too similar to the corpses that scattered battlefields in Tim’s opinion. 

Not that Tim had the sense to put that comparasin into words himself. At that moment all he knew was that Brian did not look okay and it was scaring him. 

And oh how much Brian did  _ not _ look okay. If someone else had glanced at Brian it probably wouldn’t look like too much was amiss. Tim, however, had been around machinery, and around Brian in particular, for far too long to make that mistake in judgment. Tim could see tears of frustration in Brian’s eyes, and his limbs were limp, but otherwise did not look outwardly damaged. Hot steam was trickling out of openings in the metal of Brian’s skin, hinting at something going very very wrong internally. 

In a moment Tim was kneeling at Brian's side “Are you okay?”

_ Can't lie. Lying is wrong _ . “No, I’m not.” Brian hadn’t been talking when he was alone and now that he had he realized just how difficult it was, even just to get those three words out. 

“What’s wrong?” Tim’s eyes were whirring wildly, spinning in and out of focus like camera lenses as he flicked his gaze over Brian, trying to find the issue.

“It  _ hurts. _ ” 

Tim frowned, pained on Brian's behalf.

He opened his hand, palm up, an offer to hold Brian's hand, and looked from his hand up to Brian, worry was as clear on his face as it could be considering the jagged metal of his eyes. 

The artificial tears just welled further, Brian’s voice was weak, and it wavered with defeat, “I can’t  _ feel  _ my hands,” Brian tried, as if he hadn't been sitting there trying to move his hands and being so  _ mad  _ that he wasn't able to. His fingers barely twitched, steam poured out of the fine seams in the brass, “I can't  _ move. _ ”

“Brian..” Tim said his name in a pained gasp. So often he was the one to help Brian, to offer hushed comfort while removing metal paneling, and yet, every time he saw Brian like this Tim sounded hurt. 

Tim brushed hesitant fingers on the plating on Brian’s arm, making concerned faces and freezing his hand every time Brian winced. 

“I’m..” Brian trailed off, he wanted to say that he was fine, that he would be okay and Tim shouldn't worry. But he didn’t. “I’m sorry,” he sounded  _ defeated _ , “Help? Please?” 

There were quick nods from Tim, his hands still danced nervously on Brian's inner wrist, worry evident on his face, before he nodded a final time. 

“I need to go get a tool kit, alright? I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Brian sucked in a troubled breath. He would have to be alone again. 

It was okay, it was okay, Tim would be back. 

“Yes, that’s alright.” Brian tried his best to maintain the sure tone he usually had, doing everything he could to push down the quiver of hurt and  _ fear.  _

With a furrowed brow Tim stood up and took hurried steps in the direction of his armoury.

“Hurry back!” It was a feeble attempt at words, and he was sure that Tim couldn't hear him. Brian could barely hear  _ himself, _ despite how much tiresome effort the words took to say. 

With a shuddered breath Brian steadied himself, trying on instinct to straighten his back against the wall and trying very hard to remind himself that Tim would be back soon when he  _ couldn't _ .

It took far too long for him to return, far too long of trying to calm his pained breathing and closing his eyes against the burning electricity. 

But he did get back. Brian heard rushed, uneven footsteps, as if Tim was half running down the hall.

The door opened and there Tim stood, toolbox in hand and from the looks of it, slightly out of breath. 

He set the toolbox down next to Brian and knelt, “Okay, you good to go?” he asked Brian, who steadied himself and replied affirmatively in a small voice. 

Tim nodded, resolute and determined, before retrieving a small screwdriver from his toolkit and leaning over to unscrew one of the tiny panels on Brian’s neck.

Tim frowned at how difficult it was to reach the screw, “Can you move your head?” He said quietly, hardly thinking about the request beyond what he needed to do. He got like that sometimes, when he was doing repairs on someone. 

But the thing was; Brian  _ couldn’t  _ move his head.

“No..” it was hard enough to force the words out, and he couldn’t even imagine moving right now. Even so, even though he  _ knew  _ that he was being honest, he felt that he was doing something wrong.

Evidently, when Tim moved his focus from his work to Brian’s face, he did not even consider the possibility that Brian was doing anything wrong. It was hard to see anything under the thick mask of worry that Tim had had ever since he found Brian like that, but there was no blame there. 

Upon seeing Brian’s evident guilt Tim frowned, “Hey, hey it’s alright,” He raised a gentle hand to Brian's face and tilted his head up slightly, giving himself more access to the panel on Brian’s neck. 

Brian still didn’t feel great about this, still felt like he was a burden, that it was  _ wrong _ to ask for help like this, but just that simple act of caring, of Tim being willing to help him made him think that  _ maybe _ it was alright, that  _ maybe  _ Tim would want to help him unconditionally, or at least didn’t consider this a burden.

Tim returned his focus to his work, carefully unscrewing the panel to reveal a smoking circuit board.

It never got any less strange, feeling parts of himself unscrew and come apart. It was by design, there was no pain, especially considering the  _ hurt  _ that was still burning every part of him, but it was still strange. 

Tim tapped his finger lightly on the screwdriver while he considered what his next steps were going to be. He did this for a few seconds before concluding that he was going to remove and replace the circuit board, a routine enough procedure that he had spares in the tool box. 

“Here’s what's the matter,” Tim said, “the board here, where your neck meets your shoulder, it’s one of the ones that controls the impulses from your brain to the rest of your body, like pain and movement.” 

Tim got a soldering iron out of the tool box, plugging it in and explaining the procedures he was going to follow to try and solve this problem. 

The iron heated up soon after and Tim got to work, talking though what he was doing while he did it.

It was always better when Tim talked through repairs, not that Brian didn’t like silence, far from it, considering all his time alone in the navigation room. What he  _ didn't  _ like, however, was not knowing what was happening.

Tim continued working and in a few minutes when he had desoldered the circuit board from where it was attached, Brian could actually feel  _ nothing _ . 

You’d think that that would have been better, after all the pain, but it so,  _ so,  _ wasn’t. Somehow, losing all feeling, not even being able to attempt movement, was worse.

But it was just a few minutes, and Tim worked quickly to get a new circuit board in place and before long it was as it had been yesterday, no pain and full feeling.

“Right then! Right as rain!” 

Brian flexed his fingers, smiling with relief at the full range of motion. 

Tim stood, back popping after so long bent tirelessly over the workings of Brian’s Mechanism. He offered a hand to Brian, and once he accepted pulled him unceremoniously to his feet.

“There we are,” Tim said with a grin, “didn’t even take that long.” 

Brian huffed a laugh, it had taken upwards of a few hours, “If you say so,” Brian stretched, wincing slightly at the sound of creaking metal, “hey, thank you, Tim,” Brian always felt the need to thank the crew after things like this, though now he didn't sound quite as sincere as he would like to.

“Don't mention it, wanna go watch a movie?” 

It was something of a tradition, and Brian hadn’t yet said no to a movie or two after repairs, so they were both already a few steps down the hall when Brian nodded and said “Please, that sounds great.” 

They got to Tim’s room and Tim busied himself with getting the movie set up and then going to join Brian on his bed. 

He clicked the movie on and for a while they watched in easy silence.

“Thank you, really. ” Brian said quietly, breaking the warm quiet that had fallen over the two of them.

Tim hummed, his arm was over Brian’s shoulder and he was idly feeling the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, “You’re welcome, I do enjoy it,”

Brian laughed at that. Tim loved his laugh, whether it was the loud, ecstatic laughter that rang from everyone in the crew after a particularly good gig, or the quiet laugh Tim heard now, soft and warm and barely more than a breath, and then Brian said softly, “Well, I am glad for that, at least.”

There was a lull in the conversation, neither of them having anything that they wanted to say in that moment. It was comfortable though, as it likely would be when one of them fell asleep and the conversation ended properly.

Brian yawned, bumping Tim’s face with his head. They both laughed softly, twinkling lights in the dark silence of the room. 

It was okay, Brian was okay, he was safe and warm and the electrical pain had nearly subsided now. 

Tim’s warm hand was in his, and he could feel the warmth there, he squeezed Tim’s hand subconsciously and smiled when he felt Tim squeeze back.

He was with Tim, he was okay.

  
  
  
  



End file.
